


Three Is The Magic Number

by DementedPixie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby Singer's Panic Room, Caring Castiel, Caring Dean Winchester, Castiel Does Not Understand Humans, Demon Blood Addiction, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 20:53:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12044073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DementedPixie/pseuds/DementedPixie
Summary: Written For 'Write Time 2017'Story prompt: Write a story in a single scene – no change of location, no break in time, no shift in point-of-view. AND Include a door in your story. AND Set your story in the evening.





	Three Is The Magic Number

Castiel knew he had a lot to learn. All the years of watching humans hadn’t really prepared him for mingling with them at such close quarters and he felt as though he was tiptoeing his way through a minefield every time he opened his mouth. Preparing himself for another lesson in humanity, he took a deep breath and materialised outside the closed door of the panic room. 

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was as dry and gravelly as the Grand Canyon and twice as deep. 

Dean, whose eyes had been closed in troubled repose, seemed unable to resist its pull. “Cass?” 

Castiel frowned at Dean’s choice of resting place, reclined as he was on the cold floor of Bobby’s basement, his right side leaning against the locked door of the panic room. 

“How long has he been inside this time?” asked Castiel, watching as Dean changed position to sit upright. 

Dean rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. “Three days.” 

Castiel scooped up the tails of his trench coat and sat opposite him on the floor, mirroring Dean’s position exactly. 

“What happened?” 

Castiel knew, of course, but one of the things he had started to understand about humans was that they liked to talk things through. 

“You wouldn’t believe it, Cass. My Bigfoot of a baby brother ganked that monster just by holding out his hand. I mean, who does he think he is? Yoda?” 

Castiel canted his head to one side, confused but curious. “Is that a hunter you know?” 

“No, Cass! Star Wars… Never mind.” 

Castiel mentally added ‘Yoda’ to the list of things he needed to research then dragged himself back on topic. 

“Have his hallucinations stopped yet?” 

“I think the last one was this morning, so yeah.” 

“I see.” Castiel paused, unsure of how to voice his thoughts without getting it wrong. He didn’t want it to sound as though he was suggesting that Dean shouldn’t care for his brother. After all, if there was one thing he’d learned since meeting the Winchesters it was of their great love for each other. “You should get some sleep.” 

Dean stretched his arms above his head and cricked his neck. “Can’t leave Sam.” 

“I could watch over Sam,” Castiel offered. 

“I don’t know…” 

“Dean, you are obviously tired and need to rest. I don’t need sleep.” 

“But Sam…” 

“Would not get past me. I am an Angel of the Lord, after all.” 

Dean considered the offer carefully for a few moments. “And you wouldn’t let him out?” 

“Of course not. I do understand the need for the, er…” Castiel struggled for the right phrase. It was something to do with chilled poultry. 

“Detox,” provided Dean. Castiel blinked. He had been so sure it was a different word than that but if it meant Dean would go and get some rest then it really didn’t matter. 

“Okay, man. You’re right. I’m off my game.” Dean heaved himself to his feet and stretched his back. “If you’re sure?” 

“I’m sure.” 

“Thanks, Cass. I’ll be four hours, tops.” 

Castiel looked up at him. “I will be here for as long as you and Sam need me.” 

Dean reached out and ruffled Castiel’s hair before making his way up the narrow staircase to the couch that now had his name on it. 

Castiel relaxed back against the door, focussing on the faint sound of Sam sleeping a few feet away and Dean doing the same in the room above. He knew his friends struggled to understand why he didn’t need to rest in the same way they did. Eating, drinking, washing, sleeping… He needed none of it but if he tried to explain he was always met with blank looks. 

He smiled, thinking of the many conversations he’d had with Sam and Dean, his best friends. Traditional relationships always seemed to be discussed in terms of two people. My other half. Yin and Yang. But sometimes a relationship needed a third element in order for it to survive, to flourish. Sam and Dean Winchester had watched so many of their family and friends die and every time they had tried to invest in a ‘normal’ relationship it had ended in tears. It seemed that they would never be able to ‘settle down’ in the traditional sense. They were too damaged, too torn, to put their faith in anyone new and Castiel often sensed that they didn’t really want to - not while they had each other. But as the years had gone by it seemed they had realised that just having each other wasn’t enough. They needed backup. They needed Castiel just as much as he needed them. 

He was shocked out of his reverie by the sound of a voice wrecked by three days of screaming. A hoarse whisper from a strong man brought down by an addiction to demon blood. 

“Dee?” 

“Sam.” 

“Cass? Is that you?” 

Castiel put his mouth near the door hinge so that Sam could hear him better. “How are you, Sam?” 

“Where’s Dean?” The question ignored, the panic clear. 

“I made him go get some rest. Don’t worry. I won’t leave you.” 

“Okay.” 

The door they were now both leaning against shook with the violence of Sam’s coughing. Castiel tensed. It was all very well locking the addict away until the evil had left him but this forced separation meant Castiel was unable to assist if needed. 

“Sam,” he said, getting to his feet. “Are you alright?” 

Thankfully, Sam seemed to recover as the coughing subsided. “I’m okay.” 

“Can you step away from the door please?” 

“What? Why?” 

The panic was back in the younger Winchester’s voice and Castiel rushed to reassure him. 

“I need to check you are alright. I owe that to Dean and to you.” 

“No! Don’t do that, Cass. I’m not ready. Don’t take the risk, please.” 

Castiel opened the door. 

As the heavy door swung inward the angel stepped into the panic room come rehab centre and quickly sought out its one and only occupant. Sam was curled on the floor just inside the room. His long hair was lank and tangled, his face pale and tear streaked, and he could hardly look Castiel in the eye. 

Castiel reached out his hands, silently imploring his friend to take hold of them. With a look that was so full of trust it warmed Castiel’s heart, Sam gripped the offered hands and allowed Castiel to pull him to his feet. 

“You should close the door,” whispered Sam, shakily. “And lock it.” 

Castiel shook his head. “It’s alright, Sam. I believe you are past the worst.” 

“How can you be sure?” 

“Dean told me your hallucinations stopped this morning and that was many hours ago now. I would like to suggest something to help you relax, to help you to listen to your body, if you will permit me?” 

“I’ll try anything,” acknowledged Sam, the corner of his mouth lifting in a tired smile. 

Castiel placed a guiding hand on Sam’s elbow and led him to the centre of the room until they were standing immediately underneath the Devil’s Trap drawn on the ceiling. With quietly muttered instructions to breathe this way, move that way, raise your hands here, feel the sensation there… the two men slowly progressed through a sequence of movements that Castiel was obviously very familiar with and which Sam, while new to it, picked up very quickly. The quiet of this safe place, in the basement of somewhere they considered home, with trusted family close by, gradually lowered Sam’s heart rate and brought him a gentle peace. And he slowly appeared to believe what Castiel had told him. That he was healed, the craving was gone, the demon blood was neutralised. 

Castiel moved closer still, placing one hand on Sam’s shoulder and the other on his forehead, allowing a soothing wave of Angelic grace to wash through the younger man. 

Sam closed his eyes, sighing as he leaned into the angel’s touch. 

“Son of a bitch! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“Dean.” 

Abruptly, Sam broke contact and stepped away from Castiel who, for his part, was a little hurt by Sam’s instinctive reaction. 

“We were doing nothing wrong,” Castiel explained, wondering how he had yet again managed to put his angelic foot in it. 

“No? Well what would you call it?” 

Castiel tried hard to analyse Dean’s reaction. Was he angry? Jealous? Humans were so confusing. 

“Tai Chi,” he replied, moving closer to Sam’s side once again. 

“Chai tea?” asked Sam, brushing his hair out of his eyes and furrowing his brow as he looked to Castiel for clarification. 

“It didn’t look like you were drinking tea to me,” commented Dean, totally missing the point that Sam was now very much better than the last time he’d seen him. 

“No. Dean.” Castiel gave both brothers an exasperated glance as he struggled to explain. “I was giving Sam relief.” 

As the brothers looked at each other and burst out laughing he realised he had said something wrong again. 

He just couldn’t work out what.


End file.
